


Surprise, Surprise?

by skarletfyre



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-28
Updated: 2015-08-28
Packaged: 2018-04-17 17:30:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4675262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skarletfyre/pseuds/skarletfyre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Demo is a sweetheart and Spy overreacts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Surprise, Surprise?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [queendeedee on tumblr](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=queendeedee+on+tumblr).



> this is a very rushed little birthday present for the dear and delightful [queendeedee](http://queendeedee.tumblr.com/), and also my first time writing this particular pairing!
> 
> Happy Birthday, Olivia!!! <33

“What have you done?” was the first thing Spy said when he opened to door to his smoking room, staring with narrowed eyes at the strange sight before him. Demo had asked to meet him there that evening with little explanation, though he seemed excited. Now Spy knew why.

A candlelit dinner was arranged on his imported rosewood coffee table, between the imported Italian leather armchairs which had been rearranged for the occasion. A tasteful bouquet of mountain irises, which Spy recognized as the same type growing by the pond in the back yard sat in one of his Waterford vases, between the sterling silver candle holders and bone china plates the meal had been arranged on. The dinner itself looked to be a game bird of some sort. Roasted, if he wasn't mistaken.

And there, standing beside it all looking the finest that Spy had ever seen him, was Demo. He wore a pair of pressed trousers that Spy had never seen before, along with a very well fitted dress shirt and tie. He appeared sober and washed as well, which was truly a rare sight to behold.

“I cooked,” was the Scotsman's reply, gesturing to the table. Spy managed to keep most of the disbelief off his face as he quickly closed the door behind him.

“I wasn't aware you knew how to cook,” he said, stepping hesitantly toward the table. Demo moved forward to meet him, surprising Spy by moving around him and gently helping him out of his jacket.

“Tha's the point of a surprise, love,” Demo said, smirking as he hung the jacket on its hook. Spy was even more surprised when Demo hurried forward to pull out his chair for him. He settled into his seat, watching for any sudden moves or hidden cameras. While hardly the demolitions expert's first attempt at romance, this was certainly the most extravagant. And the most unexpected.

“What is all of this?” Spy asked, unable to hide his suspicious tone as Demo shook out his napkin and placed it in his lap for him before hurrying to his own seat.

“This,” said Demo proudly, “is seasoned pheasant with a sauce made out'a fresh apricots and dates. Shot the birds meself this mornin', and I had the fruits shipped in with th' last supply train. Spent the evenin' throwin' together and getting it all set up before you got here. And this-”

Spy tensed as he reached under the table, all his years of training telling him to expect a weapon, and yet... all the man produced was a narrow rectangular box, tied neatly with a blue silk ribbon and set carefully on the table between them.

“-is your present.”

Spy regarded the box, looking between it and Demo's confident yet expectant face, trying to put all of the pieces together.

A fancy dinner, fancy clothes, a fancy gift in a fancy box. All of it seeming to come from nowhere. They had been seeing each other for only five months, so this could hardly be considered an anniversary. It wasn't a holiday.

_Mon Dieu._ The man was going to propose.

“For me?” Spy asked as nonchalantly as he could while willing his voice not to crack. _“Porquoi?”_

“Well, tha's what you're supposed to do, innit?” the Demoman said, with actual nonchalance, sliding the present forward. “It's tradition.”

“Is it?” Spy's voice was too high. He made no move to touch the gift box. There were three ways to get out of this room quickly, and he was trying to decide which of them would be the fastest and yet require the least violence to get there,. He didn't want to hurt Demo, he simple wanted to get away from... whatever this was.

He tensed when Demo's hand followed the box across the table, callused fingers seeking out his own gloved ones. Spy swallowed hard, but did not pull away. He didn't want to raise any alarms before his escape.

“'Fore we dig in, Spy, I just wanted to say...”

_Don't do it,_ Spy though desperately. _Please do not confess your love. Please don't say you want to runaway together. Please, do not-_

“...Happy birthday, love.”

Spy blinked.

“It is not my birthday.”

Demo's eye widened.

“Wha'?”

“It is April, _cher.”_

“Aye, I know. April eighteenth. I've had it marked on me calender for weeks. Wha'dya mean it's not today?”

“It's not even this _season_ ,” Spy said, trying not to smile in the face of the man's obvious distress. He squeezed Demo's hand reassuringly, feeling foolish now over his own panic. “Why on earth did you think it was today?”

“Well tha's when the file said it w-”

Demo cut himself off abruptly, clapping his free hand over his mouth. Spy's eyes narrowed.

“File?”

Demo shook his head vigorously. Spy's grip on his hand tightened.

“Demo,” he said sternly. “What file?”

Now it appeared that the Scotsman was the one looking for a quick exit.

“The one in the doc's office,” he confessed quietly. And now Spy truly was shocked.

“You snuck into the Medic's office to look at my file?” he said in disbelief. Honestly he didn't know if he should be impressed or simply offended at the invasion of privacy. Medic was not a man to cross lightly, and he did not tolerate snooping. If Demo had gotten in undetected, all the way to classified personal files, then Spy would be very interested in hearing how he'd done it.

“Ah, well no...” Demo said, looking guiltier by the second. “I, ah... asked the doc for a peek, and did him a favour for it.”

“You bribed him?”

Demo shifted uncomfortably.

“Might've done.”

Spy wanted to cover his face with his hands. This whole evening was just full of misconceptions and confusion, and they hadn't even touched their food yet.

“But today was the date in the file!” Demo said, tapping the table insistently. “I double checked it half a dozen times when I saw how close it was, I had to put in a requisition for the bloody apricots! How can ye say it's not today?”

“The file... is a fake,” Spy said delicately, trying not to look at sheepish as he felt. “I falsified specifically for this purpose, if anyone were to go snooping about my life. Don't blame the Medic, he didn't know. I swapped the files long before he got ahold of them.”

Demo stared at him for a long moment, then sighed. He leaned back in his chair.

“I shoulda known it wouldn't be that easy.”

“What wouldn't?”

“Gettin' to know ye.”

Spy processed that for a moment.

“You could always ask.”

Now it was Demo's turn to look sheepish. They sat in silence for a moment, hands still twined together on the tabletop in the flickering candlelight. Spy looked more closely at his plate for the first time since he'd sat down. All the care and skill that had gone into it, all the finesse with which the food had been prepared and arranged. It was still lovely. Everything was lovely.

“Well,” he said, breaking the silence before it became too tense. “At least now I know that the doctor is not quite so reliable as I first believed. I will have to be more careful with what I say to him.”

“Yer not angry with me?” Demo asked. Spy squeezed his fingers reassuringly.

“ _Non, cher,_ I am not angry. Mostly I am surprised you would go through such effort for me. I am still very impressed.”

“Th' food's probably gone cold.”

“That certainly doesn't make it inedible. And besides,” Spy extricated his hand to tuck his napkin into his collar. “There is more on the table than food.”

He reached for the little box tied with the blue ribbon. Demo got there first.

“Nah-ah,” he said, a familiar glint of mischief in his eye replacing the former uncertainty. “This is your birthday present. Tha' means you'll get it on your birthday.”

Spy pouted slightly for show.

“My real birthday is in December,” he confessed, and Demo's face split into a grin.

“I suppose I'll just have to hold onto to it for ye til then.”

Spy smiled at him as he picked up his knife and fork, intending to try some of this amazing meal cooked in his honour. Perhaps one day he would return the gesture.

“I suppose you will.”

 


End file.
